Glimpses
by LilPippin
Summary: Unrelated oneshots about the Tracys. Various themes and characters. 4: Scott learns a lesson while on vacation with his family.
1. Another Bridge

**_Discaimer_: Not mine. Darn.**

* * *

**Genre: _angst_**

**Era/time: _pre-thunderbirds. post-hydrofoil crash/ summer_**

**Characters:**

_Gordon - 20_

Scott-26

John-23 (24 in October)

Virgil-21 (almost 22)

Alan-18

-to clarify: a reviewer pointed out to me that Alan and Gordon are four years apart. I am aware of this. However, it seemed inconsistent to me that Gordon and Alan were the only brothers with four years. So I changed it in my story, "Turbulence." Now I just stick with that, keeping the birthdays the same, but changing the ages so that ALL have 2 years in between. It's going to stay like that 'cuz I like it much better. :D

**Another Bridge**

Dark clouds embraced the horizon and waves roughly exploded onto the shore. The sea was black and purple, the colors briefly illuminated by quick lightening strikes. The storm would be at Tracy Island soon, wrecking havoc on the habitation there.

On the sandy shore a figure sat curled into himself, his knees touching his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. His head was bowed as he released the tears so desperate to escape. The sobbing, shaking, boy had made himself scarce from the household where his brothers happily resided. He felt that they would consider him weak if he cried around them.

In reality, the Tracy boys felt that Gordon was the strongest of all of them. Fighting his fate as a cripple, Gordon had proved the doctors wrong. But that was not without scars. And not just visible ones. But they were so proud of him and his accomplishment.

On the beach, Gordon stiffly crawled to the cane which he had thrown at the height of his rage. He used it to stand up and began the journey back to the villa. He regretted his actions already; his back would pay for sure.

* * *

"Virg, is the heating pad in your room?" Gordon asked as he walked uninvited into his musical older brother's room. At that moment, Virgil was concentrating on painting a portrait of their brother, John. Gordon's distraction had made him jump and could have messed up his painting. 

"God Gordon! Warn someone before you barge in here." Virgil glowered at his younger brother. "And get out of my room!"

Seeing how Gordon, leaning on the doorpost and relying on his cane more so than usual, slumped his shoulders as if hurt, John smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry Gords. He just woke on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Seems he didn't get enough sleep." Virgil glared at him from behind the canvas. "The heating pad is in my room," John continued, gesturing across the hall.

"Stop moving, John!"

John winked at Gordon as the red-head turned to make his way to the other room.

"Thanks John. I'll see you later, Virgil." John waved to him and Virgil grunted, once again focused on his painting.

The trek across the hall felt more tedious than usual. He walked with a distinct limp,for the damage to his right side was extensive. He also had to use the cane to keep him standing. It would be awhile yet before he could walk unaided.

But he _was_ grateful for what he'd already accomplished. His hydrofoil crash had almost killed him. When he woke from his coma, he'd discovered his paralysis. The doctors thought he would never walk again. He'd be confined to a wheelchair. And for awhile he was.

He remembered the feeling of utter hopelessness. How it crept up on him when least expected. He hated how dependent he had been. He had been too weak to maneuver the wheelchair so someone had to guide him. Then, while he had been in the midst of a back spasm, the press managed to get shots of him suffering. The picture was splashed across the news papers the next day.

He broke from his thoughts when he entered John's room. The room was very welcoming, with various colors. Paintings by Virgil were hung on the wall between space posters. A large bookshelf dominated one wall. The ceiling was adorned with stars, forming the patterns of the night sky. The heating pad was on John's desk.

He knew that John wouldn't mind, so he belly flopped onto John's bed. Once the heating pad was plugged in, he placed it on his back and sighed contently. It was not long before his eyes closed in sleep.

Virgil was literally exhausted from painting. There had been so much to think about: colors, shades, tone, background, etc.. And John had been fidgety because he was worried about Gordon. Keeping his blond brother still had been quite a feat.

Clean, he emerged from the bathroom. Outside the lightening flashed. For awhile, Virgil watched the approaching storm. Scott, the oldest brother, came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How's it going?" Scott asked.

"Not bad. Finished John's portrait this morning."

"Who do you have to do still?"

"Alan, Gordon, and myself. I'm saving mine for last because it'll be the hardest. I've never done a self-portrait with paint before."

"You'll do fine. I'm sure," Scott said, removing his hand from his brother's shoulder. Virgil nodded his thanks.

As they sat there watching the storm almost upon them, they both heard a heart-wrenching scream. The shriek of pain echoed in their heads as they ran toward the sound. They found themselves outside John's room.

Scott cautiously opened the door and entered, followed by Virgil. The scene would forever be engraved in their minds. Their little brother, Gordon, had his face buried in John's pillow as he screeched in agony. John himself soon arrived with Alan in tow.

Immediately, Scott jumped into action. "Virgil, go get some wet rags. Alan, find anything to help with the pain. I know we don't have the hard stuff. But find some Advil, anything will help." With them gone, Scott and John carefully approached the bed.

"P-please. Help me. M-Make it s-stop," Gordon whispered with pain evident in his voice. His head was still buried in the pillow. Thunder crashed outside. As lightening struck, the lights went out. Scott groaned. That would make things so much harder.

Virgil was close so he had no trouble returning to the room. A bowl of water and rags were in his arms. He placed them on the table by John's bed. Alan arrived not long later.

"We're out of Advil or anything similar. I found flashlights though." He kept one and gave the two others to Scott and Virgil. "Now what?"

"Okay. Virgil, see if you can reach Dad at his business meeting." Virgil nodded and made his way out of the room.

"Gordon, we're going to have to move you to your side. It'll hurt." John said compassionately. He instructed for Alan to grab his legs and with Scott they turned him so he faced John. The pain caused him to gasp. For the first time, John really saw his brother's face. His eyes were squeezed shut. Tears ran down his red cheeks. Sweat from the exertion rested all over his head and neck. They carefully removed Gordon's shirt. With care, John started to clean his brother with one of the rags.

"T-This isn't normal," Gordon shuddered as another wave of pain splashed over him.

"Shhh, I know. It'll be okay, I promise," John crooned.

"Shit!" Virgil's shout reached the room. He stomped into the room, showing his frustration. "No reception," he said.

"What are we going to do?" Alan asked in fear.

"We have to wait it out," Scott replied as he looked down at his red-head brother sadly. "When the storm ends we'll get him into the plane. I'll fly him to the hospital in Australia."

* * *

The next few hours were torture for the Tracy brothers. Gordon's voice was hoarse from screaming. John had suggested getting him something to bite down on when the spasms reached their heights, so his mouth was full of cloth. John sat in a chair, continuing to bathe Gordon's face. When Gordon whimpered, he was there to calm him, running his hand through his hair. Scott sat on the bed behind his brother. He kept a hand rubbing his brother's neck, as his back was too tender, and whispered comforting words into his ear. Virgil sat next to John and gripped his brother's hand. When the pain struck, Gordon would tightly clench Virgil's hand. Alan sat at the foot of the bed and, with a flashlight, read a book aloud. The words acted as a distraction. All were there to help Gordon through his ordeal. 

Three hours later it was clear enough for Scott to take the plane out. With the clouds clear, the light filtered back into the household. They carefully placed Gordon on a stretcher and wheeled him to the plane.

On the way Scott managed to contact their father through the plane's radio. He promised them that he'd be there as soon as possible. When they reached the hospital, the doctors took Gordon in without delay.

Jeff had only just arrived when the doctor came out again. The Tracy family dominated the waiting room. Gordon wasn't the only one who faced a trial that day. They all were exhausted and worried. As a result they couldn't sleep.

"What happened?" Jeff asked the doctor.

"One of the plates in his back came loose. We need to fix it, but to do so we need to do-"

"Surgery. Again!" John interrupted, standing up from his seat. "When is this going to end?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Scott rose from where he sat and swung his arm around John's shoulders.

"Can we see him?" Jeff asked. The doctor nodded, told them not to take long, and led them to Gordon's room.

"Dad! I'm glad you made it," Gordon whispered when they arrived. He was on pain meds, but was still weak. He turned his attention to his brothers. "Thank you guys for everything. I don't know what-" He paused, "-what I would've done without you."

John kneeled by Gordon's bed and took the 20 year old boy's hand. "This'll get better soon. It has to." He unashamedly kissed his brother brow and moved away so his other brothers had a chance to speak with him.

As Gordon was wheeled out, John thought to himself, 'Just one more bridge to cross…. I hope.'


	2. Paralysis

A/N: Hey everyone. Here's is my next lovely one-shot. Feel special. I have my SAT Saturday and I should be preparing for that. I also am behind in Latin (which isn't that bad because I'm doing it on my own), and taking two math classes. So there are quite a few things I should be doing. But gosh darnnit, Gordon, you always get in my head at the wrong time. This is a little different. It's been awhile since I've written in 1st person, let alone in present tense. So the writing might sound a little weird. Please, let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Genre:** ANGST!

**Era:** Pre-Thunderbirds. November

**Characters:**

_Gordon-11_

_Scott-17_

John-15

Virgil-13

Alan-9

Addition: Thanks to quiller for some assistance.

* * *

**Paralysis**

The sun sets as I pull myself out of the pool. This place is so warm that I don't have to worry about being cold after coming out of the pool. I sit on the edge and let my legs dangle in the water. Already my body protests at its treatment. But what can I do, really? There's nothing to do at this bloody island besides swim and laze around. Most of our stuff is in Kansas right now, so I don't even have a computer. John's dying without his and Virgil's baby grand hasn't arrived yet. But hey…we've got a pool, ocean, and a house.

I have no idea why Dad decided to move here. He promises that the island will be much better when we get all of our stuff in, but right now it's a bust. He says we'll have a game-room, which I am looking forward to.

So far we've been here a week and already I want to go home. My family used to live in Kansas. My mom died when I was two, so I don't remember much about life before her death. My first memories are of Scott raising me when Dad was busy at work. I adored my Dad. Whenever he came home it was like a holiday. I remember that John would make us breakfast and pack our lunches for school. Then one day it all changed. I guess Dad realized what he has now. It only took him 9 years to figure it out.

So now, Gordon Cooper Tracy, 11-year-old, has been relocated to an island in the middle of nowhere. With no friends. No malls. No skateboard parks. No swim team. No oven as of yet. No computer. No life.

Life sucks. Now I understand when Travis said that his parents controlled his life. At least you weren't told to move against your will, Travis! Your parents are nice. Your mom always makes me cookies. No more of Mrs. Kurtz's right-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies. Your Dad always lets me shoot hoops with you and him and then buys us ice-cream afterward. No more of Tim's strawberry swirl on top of a chocolate covered cone. I wish I could live with your family Travis, I'd be Gordon Cooper Kurtz and would be at school with my friends.

And with no annoying brothers.

I feel a touch on my shoulder and jump, turning to see who has disturbed me. Speak of the Devil. The touch belongs to my brother, Scott, here to make sure little brother Gords is still alive. Well take a look Scott! Here I am-breathing and perfectly fine!

"Alright, Gords?" he asks. He must have seen me lost in thought and mistaken it for sadness.

"I'm fine. Go away, Scott." The pain in his eyes hurts me more than I want to admit, so I turn away, continuing to gaze intensely at the darkening horizon.

"The movie's about to start if you want to join us. Virgil made popcorn and John's brought out the chocolate." I don't reply, so Scott sighs and returns to the house, leaving me in solitude.

I know my brothers aren't to blame for all this, they were forced to come to this place just like I was. Right now I'm angrier with Dad. What _right _did he have? Don't we have a say in what happens to us? And that's where my brothers come in. Why didn't they stand up for us? Scott's supposed to be on our side, but he left without one complaint. Virgil, surely, would've stood up for us, especially with him having to leaving his music class behind.

"Music doesn't go away, Gords. It's always around," he replied when I asked him about it.

I'm already tired of my thoughts leading me in circles, coming to the same conclusion each time. They're like the hands on a clock; no matter how many times the hands go around, they still land on the 12.

I figure that I should focus my mind elsewhere. I wrap a towel around myself and walk into the villa that is my new home. Inside, I can hear John laughing. That's rare; John is usually so serious. It's nice to hear him content. At least one of us is. As I approach the living room where my family is watching a movie, Virgil catches sight of me and beckons me over. But I just shake my head and move to the box of books that hasn't been unpacked yet. I make a lot of noise as I dig through the books. I can_ feel_ Dad's glare. But who cares? This is all his fault anyway.

See there I go again…same conclusion.

When I find my copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, edition three, I nod to John. He's smiling at me as if saying _It'll be alright. _I take the book to my room. Right now all I have is a bed, a light, and a chair with my iPod center and alarm clock on it. At least I have my music-even if I don't have headphones. The walls are hospital-room white. I'll have to beg Virgil to paint me a mural of the ocean sometime soon.

I read about two chapters before I feel myself drifting asleep…

* * *

My alarm clock rings obnoxiously the next morning. I turn my head to the side, since I am lying on my back, to look at the time. 8:00…too early. I try to move my arm to turn it off, but I can't move it. I try again to make a fist but it doesn't work. I can't move my arm. Or my other arm. Or my legs. Oh God! I can't move! Did I strain my neck in my sleep? Is it possible to paralyze yourself that way? What am I going to do? I'll need to be fed, and dressed. I'd be stuck in this bed forever. Oh God, I wouldn't even be able to pee without help! 

Oh Good Lord! I need to move. Just let me move. I can hear myself whimpering and I can feel the tears of panic on my cheeks. I need to hear my own voice.

"My name is Gordon Cooper Kurtz." Well I can speak okay. Why me? Why did I deserve this? What if God is doing this to punish me? What did I do wrong? Can I fix it? I have to fix it.

My brothers! I love them and I don't want to lose them. I'm sorry I got mad at Scott. I'll never make fun of John again. I'll go to Virgil's concerts. What concerts? He doesn't go to a school that has concerts. All because of Dad. No stop thinking negatively, Gordon. Positive thoughts. Have to earn God's forgiveness.

I'll take care of Alan. He's my only little brother.

I'll be good. I'll do the dishes when it's my turn. I'll stop pulling pranks. I won't complain about my chores. I'll bring my grades up. I'll spend time with the family. Please just make it go away.

Daddy, I need you. You can make this better. You make everything better. I never meant to hurt you, Dad. I'm not angry anymore! I understand now. You just wanted to show us how much you love us. I love you Dad. And Scott and John. And Virgil and Alan. I don't want to be a Kurtz, I want to be a Tracy. I'm Gordon Cooper Tracy.

"And I hate myself." I'm a terrible person and I deserve this. Is that what you wanted to hear? Well there I've said it. Now please just make it go away. I'm sorry for everything I've done. Please…I need to move.

"Gordon. Turn that alarm clock off and get up. Dad made chocolate pancakes just for you. Granted they were frozen pancakes but…"

"Scotty!" I whimper. "Scotty, I can't move. Why can't I move? Make it go away." He's at my bedside in an instant. For a second I am ashamed of the tears that adorn my red cheeks but that feeling goes away when the fear returns. I don't know what I'd do if this was permanent. He must've turned the alarm clock off because the room is silent again. I can feel his hand grasp mine.

"I'm going to get something to clean up your face, okay? I'll be right back."

"NO! Scotty, don't leave me." I can't be alone again.

"Shh, it's alright." He calms me down, which takes a while, and uses his sleeve to wipe away my tears. The fabric feels good against my skin.

"Scott, what's the hold up? The pancakes are getting cold." It's Johnny speaking.

"John! Come here." Scotty explains my situation. My panicked thoughts continue to run in circles. What things have I done that I need to fix? I'm sorry I broke Alan's car when he was three. It was me not Virgil. It's all my fault.

"This has to go away," I say to myself. I don't realize that Scotty and Johnny have turned their attention back on me. Johnny places his hands around my face as Scotty once again wipes up my tears.

"Gordon, look at me," Johnny says, "I've heard of this before. When you sleep you are paralyzed or else you'd act out your dreams. There's a sleep disorder in which a person remains paralyzed after they wake up. It lasts for about 10 minutes. This is _not_ permanent. I promise this'll go away."

"Oh God, Johnny." I'm still scared. But the words are comforting. I start crying again, this time in relief. The clock says 8:07. Only 3 more minutes to go.

Suddenly I can squeeze Scott's hand. I can move!

"He squeezed my hand!" Scotty says excitedly.

"It's coming back," I whisper at the same time.

"I told you it would. Have I ever let you down?" Johnny's eyes twinkle as he grins at me.

"No," I admitted. "Never"

"It'll be over soon." Scotty says. Slowly movement returns to my limbs. It starts with my hands and arms. When I can finally wiggle my toes, I let out a breath of relief.

"What's the hold up, guys? We sent you up here ages ago!" Alan's young voice thunders in the hallway as he approaches my room. Johnny goes to explain everything, hesitant to leave my side.

"Ready?" Scott asks. Without answering, I pull myself up out of bed. Scott walks behind me, ready to catch me should I falter. I'm shaking uncontrollably, still terrified of what happened. Scott and John's obvious concern makes me guilty about all the things I've thought about them in the past. During my temporary paralysis, my feelings had been clearer than ever before. I love my brothers. And I love my dad. And I am grateful for what I do have. I hope you're up there watching over me, Momma. I hope you're proud of my revelation.

Now fully dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, I exit the bathroom. Scott's waiting for me by the door. I can't look him in the eyes. He pulls my chin up forcing our gazes to lock.

"Am I a bad person?" I ask him sincerely. He looks genuinely surprised. Then, he lets go of my chin and grabs my shoulders instead.

"Of course not, Gords. Things are changing. You're just adjusting."

"Then why did that happen to me? I had to have done something!"

"Gordon, that was a psychological thing. Tell you what, after breakfast, you, me, and John will commandeer Dad's computer and research this, okay?" I nod, but am not convinced.

* * *

I am quiet all through breakfast and I think I've got the whole family concerned. After breakfast my brothers (all of them) and I crowd around Dad's laptop, which John has control of. Scott holds me in his arms. 

"Sleep Paralysis: Causes no harm. Subjects are very afraid and anxious during it, though." Scott looks at me after reading aloud.

"You have no idea," I reply at his unspoken question.

"It says here that stress and changes in life-style can cause it. Sound familiar, Gords?" John asks seriously.

"We've all been stressed, John! And it's not like we had a choice to move here. Of course it sounds familiar, you idiot," Scott answers before I can get the words out of my mouth. It surprises me. So Scott did stand up for us. He does feel the same way as me. I don't feel so horrible anymore. John holds his hands up in surrender.

"I wanted to hear it from him, but whatever." He goes back to his laptop. "Some subjects have reported something called the "Hag Phenomena" where the person feels impending death." I shake my head…just intense fear. "It also says that people have reported seeing a figure watching them-an alien."

I nod seriously. "Actually I did. He came from Mars. He was trying to abduct me." My brothers are all looking at me as if I was crazy. I tremble to add emphasis. "He was tall and pretty quiet. He had this blinding hair and blue eyes." I stare right at John as I say the rest. "He was terrifying."

There's an awkward silence, but I continue to look at John. I wink at him so that only he can see. For a second he is surprised, but then he realizes whom I was describing. His laugh shakes the room. The boys' glances shift to John and they, too, realize.

Soon all of us are laughing and I know things will be alright. But I NEVER want to go through that again. Paralysis is scary.

* * *

**9 years later- Gordon:aged 20**

I wake to beeps and I move with the intention of turning off my alarm clock. But I can't move, I'm too weak. I open my eyes fearfully. I don't know what's happening.

"Dad! He's awake. Quick! Get the doctor!"

Oh God, Scott. Don't shout. It's not good for this headache. I am able to look around. The beeps are from the heart monitor. I've got IVs in both arms. Wires are everywhere.

There's a tube down my throat. I don't like it. My harsh breathing fights against the tube. My heart rate increases. Sweat covers my body. I can hear a new voice now. It's not one I recognize. He tells me what I have to do and soon the tube is out of my throat. I cough harshly, making my body jerk. But my legs aren't moving. I try to wiggle my toes, but my toes don't respond. I recognize this sensation.

"Scotty, I'm paralyzed." I don't even know my own voice. Surely that croaking, weak voice belongs to someone else.

"You'll be okay, Gords. It's alright."

This time I don't believe him. I remember the hydrofoil crashing. I remember the screams and the smell of burning flesh. How is it that I'm alive? There's no way I can walk out of this unhurt. I'm paralyzed- this time for good.


	3. The Rings of Saturn

_A/N: 3 tests tomorrow, homework, and club stuff to work on and all I could think about was this. After the disappointment of updating not one, but two stories and only getting one review for both, I had to find a way to get back into the swing of things. This story starts off with Virgil aged 10 and John aged 12. Enjoy and please review! It's very much appreciated._

* * *

**_The Rings of Saturn_**

**Kansas; Tracy Home: April**

I was working on the rings of Saturn when I heard my brother begin playing his scales on our family's baby grand piano, which our mother had dubbed Doodad as if it was a house pet. When she died, the name stuck.

I had been working on this model for weeks. I started by spray painting a basketball, which was stolen from Scott, yellow, since it was a good base color. From there, I dabbed on lots of red paint and a bit of black paint. I suppose I could've stopped with that, but I really wanted to talk about solar flares at the science fair. So I had to find a way to put a solar flare on my sun. I ended up twisting yellow and red pipe-cleaners together and super-gluing it to the basketball. Not what I had imagined. But it worked.

The following weeks were spent working on the planets a little bit at a time. I was almost done; I even had a little Pluto. I truly believed that it was a planet, regardless of what the scientists said. I made sure to keep up to date on the "Pluto: Planet or Asteroid" debate that _still _existed after all those years.

I felt that a personal opinion, backed up by facts, would help me to win over the judges. They always love a good stance on modern issues.

The planets that were completed were already secured to the model, which was shaped like a big mobile. But I was having such a hard time trying to figure out how to create Saturn's rings. I knew that I wanted to show rocks and ice, but how was I to do that?

Beads and wire. I borrowed my friend, Becky's, collection of tiny beads and bought some thin wire. I had a hard time picking up the beads and stringing them on the wire. See, I bite my nails when I'm nervous, so I had nothing to grip the beads with. I dropped quite a few, making stringing them on one hundred times harder.

As Virgil started pounding away with a new piece, I jumped. The sudden change had surprised me, and as a result I dropped the bead I was stringing. So then I tried to look for it and ended up tilting the wire so that at least 20 of the beads fell off before I noticed.

Frustrated, I gathered up the fallen beads and walked to my radio, turning it to a random station in the hopes that it would block out Virgil's playing. Contently, I went back to the rings of Saturn. It wasn't even ten seconds later when another loud chord resonated through the floor, overpowering the song on the radio and startling me again. This time I dropped the wire and all but one bead fell off.

Why did _my_ room have to be directly above that stupid piano? I bet Scott was lounging on his bed, eating popcorn, and talking on the phone with his girl friend with no musical interruptions. Lucky...

Not one ring was completed, and I needed to do at least five of them! Five! How was I supposed to do that with that blasted piano!

I had had enough. I stormed out of the room, making sure to slam the door for good measure, and stomped down the steps. Good thing Dad wasn't home; I would've been grounded for sure.

I stepped into the room expecting to see Virgil with his head bowed over the keys. Instead his head was resting on the keys. In my rage, I had not noticed that the playing had stopped. I knew right away that something was wrong.

Quiet sobs could be heard from the shaking form that was my ten year old brother. His face was covered by his hands, but when he heard me enter he looked up, allowing me to glimpse his face. Tear tracks adorned his red cheeks. His stormy eyes were flooded.

He quickly rubbed his sleeve across his face as if that would eliminate the evidence. But that damage had been done. I may have been on the verge of my teenage years- but I was not dispassionate. Especially when it came to my brothers.

"What's wrong?" I demanded. Belatedly, I realized how harsh I sounded because Virgil grimaced. Softer this time, I said, "Please, Virgil tell me what's up."

I glanced at the stand and saw Beethoven's 5th typed across the top of the sheet. I recognized the arrangement as a complicated one, but not the original. Still, when Virgil played something as…angry… as the 5th, one could safely assume that something was bothering him.

"I don't wanna' talk about it," he said irritated and turned away.

"Please, I haven't seen you cry like this since Mom died. Tell me what's hurt you. I want to help. I'm here for you." That did it. I led him to the couch and we sat face to face. Stumbling over his words, he started to tell me what had occurred.

"There's this boy. He's in my science class and he's really mean." He said. "It started off with him just running into me in the halls. But then a while ago he started calling me names. Then he started insulting you guys. One day I had enough and I punched him. That's why I was suspended those few days."

"You wouldn't tell Dad why you hit him. What did he say to you, Virgil?" I asked.

His eyes shifted down to the floor. He was hesitant to answer. Finally he replied, "He said Dad never loved me. That he spent all day working because he couldn't stand to see my mother's eyes on me."

I grabbed his chin and forced him to look up, "That's not true, Virgil! You know that, right?" He nodded.

"Yeah, I know that. But anyway, after the suspension he stopped. But then today-" Virgil paused. I saw his eyes dampen again.

"What did he do Virgil? What did he say?" I prompted.

Taking in a deep breath, he continued. "Today he ripped apart my music for the concert. I was going to play while Sara Mitchell sang. And I was going to dedicate it to Mom. And there was only one copy in the music storage. So now Sara blames me for messing up her performance because we can't possibly do it now. And Ms. Pierson blames me for ruining her sheet music and won't let me play in the concert. She thinks that I was the one that shredded the piece. And I wasn't. It wasn't my fault. It's not fair. Johnny, I was going to dedicate it to Momma." During his explanation he became panicked and angry all over again, but with the last line he started sobbing. I embraced him and rubbed his back in comfort. I knew that this one he had to just cry out.

When it came to Mom, crying was all we could do.

When he stopped, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. He probably had a headache from all the crying, but only Scott, as the oldest, could handle meds when Dad wasn't home. So he sipped the water in silence as I pondered a way to fix this.

Finally an idea came to me.

"Virgil," I exclaimed with pride, "I know how to solve this."

I called up Becky and asked her if she would sing with Virgil. Once I explained everything that happened, she gladly agreed. I knew that I could count on her.

"But what am I going to sing?" she asked.

And that was the next step. I told Virgil to go find his favorite piece, something with a good melody. Then I told him that I would write my own lyrics. I spent the rest of the night working on those lyrics. It was a lot to think about. Flow and the refrain and making the words match the music. Saturn's rings could wait; I had to make this perfect. For Virgil. And for Mom.

The next day I spoke to Ms. Pierson and asked her to let Virgil back in the concert. When she heard the whole story, she was very sympathetic. And she loved what I had done for him. She made sure to put my name as the lyricist for the piece in the program that would be handed out the night of the concert.

* * *

**15 years later- Marriott, Kempton Lounge, California**

"So that's the first time I remember writing poetry." I winked at my brother who was seated in the front row, smiling back at me.

That series of shouts, common of a public interview, started up again. I pointed to a random lady dressed in red.

"How did your science fair go?" she asked. Everyone in the room laughed, including me.

"First," I replied, holding up one finger and sending her a grin.

The next person asked me why I hadn't pursued my dream of being an astronaut. This was dangerous ground. I had pursued my dream, just in a different way. But no one could know this.

"I love stars and space, this is shown throughout my poetry book. But I get horribly air sick. It wouldn't have worked between us." I glanced up at the ceiling as if talking to the sky. Again a few laughs escaped the representatives.

"So what made you decide to publish your poetry? Until recently you've strictly kept to your non-fiction books. Why the sudden change?"

"I remembered the look on my little brother's face. He was so overwhelmingly happy the day of the concert. I wanted to bring that joy to others the only way I knew how."

Finally, when the interview was done, I walked out of the Marriott, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, as the suit was too stuffy. Virgil walked beside me.

"I'm proud to call you brother, John," he said as we slid into the limo. I smiled. And I you, Virg. And I you.


	4. Rite of Passage

**Summary:** 15 year old Scott learns an important lesson while on vacation with his family.

**Main Characters:** Scott, Virgil, and John

**Genre: **drama/general

**Ages:**

Scott-15

John-12 (turning 13 in October)

Virgil-10(turning 11 in August)

Gordon- 9

Alan -7

* * *

**_Rite of Passage_**

**The Night of July 9****th****- All Star Movies Hotel, Florida**

Virgil had a decision to make. With their father home for the summer, the Tracy brothers were desperate for quality time with him. Tracy Industries was at its peak; but, as happy as they were for their father's success, the job took Jeff away from home too often. Virgil wanted to spend more time with his father. That's why he wanted to travel around the Magic Kingdom with him and his two younger brothers.

But it's tough to be the middle son. And another half of him wanted to go with Scott and John around the park. While Jeff was away, Scott became the Head of House. As a result, Virgil felt the safest when he was around Scott. Scott comforted him when he cried about Mom. Scott had all the good advice on how to deal with girls (and the uncomfortable feelings that were so new to Virgil ). He was the one who gave him insight on how to deal with teachers. He was the one that helped him with homework. To put it simply, Scott was Virgil's idol.

And John wasn't too far away.

So who did he want to hang out with the next day? He had no idea.

**July 10****th****- Magic Kingdom, Florida**

Since 2010, the four Disney parks had been on a spree, adding attractions and rides to the point where they were almost doubled in size. The Tracys had spent two days in EPCOT and two days in MGM. But their schedule only allowed for one day in Magic Kingdom.

It was hot. Hot and humid. But Scott wasn't going to let that stop him. He had the whole day planned out (he'd been up until 1:00 staring at the map and making notes). They were going to hit every attraction possible. But they'd have to skip lunch. Instead they would eat small snacks throughout the day. Snacks they could eat on the run. They'd have to make minimal stops to save time. But John agreed that he was up to the challenge.

And so was Virgil, who had decided at breakfast that morning to spend the day with his favorite older brothers.

When they arrived, they stopped at the statue of Walt Disney and Mickey Mouse. It was only 9:00 and already hitting 95°F. Jeff gave Scott a bottle of suntan lotion and some money for the three boys. They left quickly to get to the back of the park. Jeff watched his boys disappearing behind the crowds, sadly noting that they were growing up on him. When Alan grabbed his hand and pulled, he turned his attention back onto his younger sons. His sons were getting impatient; they wanted to go! They walked through Cinderella's Castle into Fantasy Land together, the two boys holding on to their father's hands.

* * *

The three oldest Tracy boys reveled in their independence. They ran from one attraction to the other, excited by all the colors and activity. No park could compare to Disney World. It really did make them feel like little kids again, even though they were still young. But, unlike when they were Alan's age, they were old enough to ride the most thrilling of rides. 

Scott started them off at the back of the park because most people worked front to back. Not as many people would be in the back. Scott's plan seemed to be working perfectly. Until they started getting hungry.

Scott took them to an outside stand which was not as crowded as the restaurants and other stands. However the person running it was not only a new employee, but was also having trouble with his computer and cash register. As a result, they were running behind schedule by twenty minutes. To save time and money Scott ordered one salted pretzel for them to split, but he forgot drinks.

Scott promised to stop for drinks after they made it into the next section of the park, because he was getting thirsty as well. He kept his promise, but got sodas for everyone. John and Virgil knew that caffeine would make them feel worse, but they were so parched from the salty pretzel that they just didn't care.

* * *

John was feeling sick. His head hurt. He felt nauseous. And he was just plain tired. He lagged behind his other two brothers, who were running toward Magic Kingdom's newest roller coaster. John didn't have the stamina for running. 

Scott glanced back and saw John falling back. When John sat down at a park bench, he approached his brother. John was sweating profusely and breathing heavily.

"Scott, I need to stop. Water?" John said quietly, his head in his hands. Scott sent Virgil to run and get a bottle of water.

"You look like you came out of a pool. No wonder you need water." John didn't laugh. When Virgil returned he grabbed the water and gulped it down.

"Sorry to rush you, John, but we have to get going if we want to make it on time. We are already running late." Scott offered his hand to help John up. John nodded and pulled himself up. Within seconds, Scott and Virgil were off again. John started to run to catch up with them, but he felt his stomach protest. He ran to the trashcan instead. He lost the water, the soda, and the pretzel. He hated throwing up. And it wasn't like the trashcan smelled nicely.

"_Damn it, I drank too fast!"_ he thought bitterly to himself.

Scott and Virgil were waiting for him by the entrance to the roller coaster. They asked him if he was ready and he nodded. But he wasn't ready; he still could taste his own vomit.

* * *

As the day progressed, the temperature rose. The humidity made it worse. It hadn't stormed yet, but they knew Florida. It would happen soon. By three in the afternoon they were back on schedule. Having gone through Fantasy Land, they sprinted into Tomorrow Land (which wasn't so "tomorrow" as it was before the Space Race of their father's time) 

John continued to feel worse. Following Scott, he passed the indoor restaurants. He envied the people inside. _They _had air conditioning. It wasn't fair.

"Scott," John said, "I have to sit down. Now!" He sat on a curb outside Cosmic Rays, since all the benches were full.

"John, we have to get to Space Mountain before it gets crowded again. At this rate we'll never get anything done."

"Oh so you think I'm slowing you down! Fine then, Scott. You go. But I'm staying right here and taking a break."

" I can't just leave you here. You said that you could keep up!"

"That was before I found out how bad of a leader you are! Acting like you care. All you

care about is yourself. So go! I don't want to _burden_ you!"

"Um, guys…" Virgil said. He wasn't used to his brother's fighting and people were staring at them.

"SHUT UP, VIRGIL! You're his lackey. Just scurry on off and get a life!" In shock, Virgil's eyes widened.

"Stop it, John! You don't have the right to talk to your BROTHER like that." Scott scolded.

"The right? I have every right! You've been pushing me and pushing me ever since Mom died. And you," he turned to Virgil, "you use me. You only talk to me when Scott's not around and you need help with something. Well how about when _I _need something? You care just about as much as that ass does!"

"JOHN!" Scott yelled in anger.

"I do care!" Virgil defended.

"Well then, why don't you tell Brother Dearest that he needs to stop being so bossy. I need to sit down. If you care you'll do that for me, right Virgil?" John's smirk was unnatural. Virgil hesitated, looking at Scott for answers. Why was John so angry?

"John," Virgil whispered, "You're scaring me." Scott noticed that Virgil was shaking so he draped an arm around Virgil's shoulder in comfort.

"Come on, Virgil. Let's go. John, feel free to sit down. We'll meet you here after the ride. And you better be in a good mood when we get back!"

John watched them go. He sat back down on the curb and put his head in his hands. Oh God! What did he just do? Where did those words come from? He had to go find Scott and Virgil. He had to apologize. Space Mountain. That's where they were headed, right? He jumped up, intending to run after them. His head swam. He walked slowly to a light post and grabbed it for support.

His last thought was, "_Why is Mickey Mouse running at me?" _Then all went black

* * *

"Scott?" 

"Yeah, Virg?"

"I think we should go back. Something's wrong. You know John. He would never say that to me or you."

"Well he did say it, Virg! I'm not just going to forgive him for it."

"Neither am I. But I truly think he wasn't in his right mind. Something's wrong." At Scott's dubious glare Virgil grabbed his hand. "I know it, Scott. And deep down you know it too. Come on." Virgil led him back to Cosmic Rays.

When they got there they found a crowd surrounding something. A sickening feeling filled Scott's stomach and he pushed through the people to find a collapsed John in the center. Oh God!

"Virgil, call Dad now!" Scott threw his phone at Virgil. "Why isn't anyone doing anything! Standing around certainly helps!" He kneeled down next to his fallen brother.

"I don't know what to do," he whispered, a few tears leaking from his eyes. This was all his fault and he didn't know what to do to fix it.

A woman, who was wearing a Mickey Mouse hat, around his father's age stooped down beside him. "It's going to be okay, son. Someone's going to get help. Why don't you try and cool him down some." She grabbed a handkerchief from her purse and wetted it with a cold water bottle she had just bought.

Scott thankfully took the handkerchief and laid it on John's forehead.

"Dad's on his way," Virgil said as he sat down beside Scott. "I knew something was wrong." Scott could only nod.

* * *

Everything happened so fast. A park official had called the park's health center. They ran to the scene to decide that John needed to be taken to the hospital for dehydration. Jeff rode in the ambulance with his second oldest son, leaving his four other boys to ride to the hospital with a security officer, who had just finished his shift. The boys had met up with their father in the waiting room. 

Within a short amount of time, the doctor came out asking for the Tracy family. The doctor told them that John had to stay overnight. He was rejecting nourishment and liquids orally (meaning he kept throwing up), so he was getting food and water through an IV. It could've been worse. He could've gotten heat exhaustion, which could have led to heat stroke. However, John was conscious, but also disoriented.

"Dehydration is a very serious condition. In can be fatal," he told them as he led them to John's room. "Incidentally, it's also one of the most common conditions in the ER after days in amusement parks."

"But it was only one day. How could he lose so much water so fast?" Virgil asked.

"Everyone's bodies are different. But in heat like this, especially if you aren't used to the humidity, anything can happen within a few hours."

When they entered, John turned his head to the sound. His family! He'd been surrounded by doctors for God knows how long. Finally, his family was here. He wanted to apologize to Virgil and Scott. He wanted to hold Gordon and Alan. He wanted his Dad to hold him.

"Daddy," he said weakly, as he reached for his father. "I wanna' go home. Get me out of here, please, Daddy."

Jeff cried inside. John had stopped calling him Daddy a year after Lucy had died. "I can't, son. You're still sick. But I promise that I'll stay with you. It'll be alright." Jeff grabbed his hand and stroked his hair comfortingly.

"Wanna' go home," John repeated.

"I know," his father soothed. His boys hated hospitals. "Go to sleep, Johnny. I'll be here when you wake."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

* * *

When John finally fell asleep, Jeff told his sons that they should get some rest themselves. He drove them back to the hotel and gave his oldest some money for dinner. He told Scott that they would have a talk once John was okay. Then he drove back to the hospital. 

The boys ordered a pizza, bought a movie through demand, and later popped some popcorn. Gordon and Alan went out soon after the movie finished. Virgil followed an hour later. Scott stayed up all night watching his brothers-minus one- sleep.

Plagued by insomnia, he took a shower. The hot water drops pelted his skin. Knowing know one could hear him, he sobbed, the sound being overpowered by the cascading water and his tears being sucked down the drain.

**July 11****th****- 9:00 am- All Star Movies Hotel**

The boys anxiously waited for their father's return. They'd already eaten a healthy breakfast and were desperate to see their brother, who only hours ago were so sick. After breakfast they returned to their hotel suite. Gordon and Alan were fooling around, as usual. Scott stared up at the ceiling. Virgil surfed the net on Scott's laptop. Jeff had promised to get all of his sons laptops on their 13 birthdays. Scott at 15, was the only one who had his. John's birthday would be soon and he'd receive his then. Virgil still had 2 years to go.

Everyone paused when the door started to open. Their dad entered first, carrying a cup of coffee and a pastry. The brothers held their breaths as John entered. He looked a little pale. A little tired. But he seemed okay.

"John!" The yells of his three younger brothers made John cringe. But he welcomed the three suffocating hugs.

"Come sit down, John," Virgil said as he led him to a bed.

"No, no more beds. A chair will suffice. Thanks, Virg." John sank into the chair offered.. "I want you to know that I'm sorry, Virgil, Scott. I never meant anything that I said. The doctor told me that dehydration can make people more irritable than usual. I feel so bad about everything I said to you."

"What did you say, John?" Gordon asked curiously.

"Not right now, Gordon." Jeff reprimanded. His red-headed son quieted instantly, but Jeff knew that Gordon's imagination was bouncing off the walls at this point.

"It's alright, John. I knew it wasn't you talking. I love you and I know you'd never say something so cruel."

"Scott? Please say something." John asked.

Finally, Scott stopped looking at the ceiling. He looked John right in the eyes and said, "I need some air." Then he left.

"He's still mad." John whispered, his head falling.

"I don't think that is it, son. I'll go talk to him. Watch your brothers," Jeff replied. He placed his hand on John's shoulder before walking after his oldest son.

"Scott?"

At his father's voice, Scott glanced up from where he was sitting on the ground. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"What's wrong, Scott?"

Suddenly, the dam broke loose. Scott sobbed into his father's shirt, trembling. But his father's arms embracing him made it seem better. Through his tears he explained what had happened the day before. Why John had been so dehydrated. Why it was all his fault. And then he kept sobbing. When Scott was done, and when the killer headache started, Jeff carefully considered his words.

"Son, I love you. And because of that I am not going to say that it isn't your fault. You know it is. But we all make mistakes. What is important is to learn from those mistakes. You aren't the only one to blame. What about me. I never checked in to see how you were. I never asked about your plans. I could have stopped it before it started. I've been feeling guilty too. And what about Virgil? He didn't stop it either. He let it happen too. And what about John himself? If he'd pushed hard enough you would've seen how in need he was. But you know your brother. He tends to bottle things up. He didn't want to disappoint you Scott. Now listen to me. What are you going to get out of this situation Scott?" The boy shrugged. "I love the fact that you are organized. Every parent wishes that they had a kid who actually likes cleaning his room. It is always good to plan ahead. But Scott, you can't plan life. You can't anticipate what's going to happen next. You can't know everything."

Scott nodded in understanding. His dad could always put things into perspective.

"Good. Now go back upstairs and tell John that you aren't angry at him."

Scott explained why he'd walked out on John, said his apologies, and begged for forgiveness. John announced that he had the best older brother ever and they hugged. The family decided to spend the afternoon and evening in Downtown Disney, where they could shop for a few items they'd promised friends, have fun in Disney Quest, and eat until they were stuffed. Jeff told his boys that they could split up again if they wanted.

"Actually Dad, I want to spend sometime with you and Alan and Gords." John said.

Scott knew that look in John's eyes. He wanted to go with Scott and Virgil. He just didn't want to be a burden like yesterday. "Actually," Scott said, "I thought we'd stick together today."

And John smiled.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry. Seems that my summer is busier than my school year. I haven't gotten any writing time with babysitting, working, and marching band. I also have to finish half a book of Latin by August 21. I am going on vacation from the 11th through the 18th. If I finish my Latin I might start writing the next chapter of Deadly Affliction for you guys. I'm sorry that I am such a slow updater. _Anyway, please please please review._ It is the only way for me to know how I am doing.** **Until next time!-LilPip**


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